


Next Stop...

by hazel_lannister



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_lannister/pseuds/hazel_lannister
Summary: Steve hates crushes like these. They never end well, and honestly it's ridiculous to have a crush on the hot guy from the bus, even if he does have gorgeous eyes and a sweet smile.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is complete but I am updating chapter by chapter as I edit them.

Steve first sees the hot guy on the bus on the way back to his apartment. He’s just finished a long day of classes, preparing for an even longer night of homework, when he first sees those gray-green eyes.

He’s pulled out The Tempest, he needs to finish it tonight, and he plans to put the hour bus ride to good use. That is, until he’s thoroughly distracted when the handsome stranger boards the bus.

He’s tall, taller than Steve (which is saying something), and fit. His arms are toned and his hands have long fingers and look strong. His dark hair is pulled up in a messy bun and his face has sharp, graceful angles and just a hint of five o’clock shadow. But the eyes are what distract Steve the most.

Seated across the aisle, Steve has a good view of his eyes, deep and dark but green in the sunlight; they focus out the window behind Steve as the stranger listens to headphones.

Steve struggles to concentrate on his book, eyes continually flickering up for another brief glance at the other man. It really should be illegal to be this distracting, and Steve really needs to focus on this stupid assignment.

Even so, Steve can’t keep his gaze down. About the hundredth time he looks up, green eyes meet his and Steve’s heart leaps into his throat. They stare at each other for what feels like a year before one side of the stranger’s mouth quirks up in a half smile.

Steve definitely can’t breathe. He feels his face heat and quickly stares back down at his book, keeping his gaze down for as long as he can muster before his eyes are pulled up uncontrollably to glance at the man across from him once more.

Green eyes dart to meet his but quickly look away, his mouth seeming to fight off a smile. The smug bastard.

The bus fills up more and more and at one stop, the stranger stands just as the doors open and Steve is disappointed that he will be gone already. He walks to the stairs but returns a moment later, guiding an old woman to the seat he vacated.

Fucking hell. Does he have to be nice too?

Steve is gaping, his mouth hovering open, and when the stranger makes eye contact and gives him a small smile and shrug, Steve quickly snaps it shut.

All of the seats are full and the man stands awkwardly over Steve, who has never felt smaller in his entire life. Steve peeks up at him from under his lashes and the man is close enough that Steve can smell his cologne, musky and masculine but also pleasant, like damp wood or wet pavement.

Steve just manages to keep his eyes on the book, rereading lines over and over again for lack of concentration, made increasingly difficult on the occasions that the man catches him looking up and gives Steve a smile.

They have one more stop before Steve gets off when the man speaks to him.

“Could you…?” he asks, voice deep but quiet compared to the noisy bus, and gestures to the cord behind Steve.

Steve stares back for a moment, doing a remarkable impression of a gaping fish, before he shakes his head, the words finally registering their meaning in his brain. “Oh, uh, yeah…” Steve says eloquently before giving the cord a tug.

The man smiles his thanks and hops off when the bus pulls to a stop.

…

Steve hates crushes like these. They’re stupid and futile because there’s no chance of seeing the person again. Not to mention the fact that Steve doesn’t even know his name. Or _him_ for that matter.

He could be a serial killer or sociopath or… but he had smiled so genuinely and helped that old woman…

But he could be a sociopath really good at replicating human emotion. And, he could more likely be straight.

Steve is being stupid and he knows it. The fact of the matter is that it doesn’t make a difference what this guy is because Steve is never going to see him again and he needs to get a fucking grip. At least he had comfort in the knowledge that it didn’t matter how idiotic he’d acted since he’ll never see him again.

…

Steve took it back. He doesn’t have the comfort of never seeing this stranger again. Because he’s sitting right across the aisle again.

What if he’s going to be on the bus everyday now? What if he sits next to Steve? How is he ever going to get homework done on the bus ever again? But again, the stranger is listening to music and gazing off out the window, occasionally catching Steve looking and giving him a breathtaking smile.

This pattern continues most weekdays, though Steve is often disappointed when the man isn’t on the bus. Which, of course, is utterly ridiculous.

Thursday is a long day for Steve after a near sleepless night after a nightmare about his mom and a stressful day with midterms, Steve is ready to go home and be a vegetable for a while. The bus is fuller at this time than usual, and the stranger is one of the only people who is not seated next to someone. In fact, it appears that only he and another man that has to be over seventy that’s looking at Steve like he’s a meal are the only two people that have seats available next to them.

So Steve has three options; suck it up and stand, bury himself in his book and hope the creepy guy doesn’t talk to him, or sit next to the handsome stranger and face possible permanent embarrassment.

The stranger is looking out the window and listening to music so he doesn’t notice Steve has approached until he’s right there. The man smiles politely up at Steve and shifts to give him more room, a clear invitation to take the seat.

Steve smiles his thanks and pulls out his book even though he knows he has zero chance of actually focusing on the material when he is sitting this close to a man this attractive, heat radiating in a pleasant way on the cool fall afternoon, a cool fresh scent filtering through the smell of leather and bus that can only be the man seated beside him.

Steve trains his eyes on the page before him and does his best to clear his mind and senses of everything except for the words. He actually gets into the reading and is nearly to the point of forgetting, _nearly,_ that there’s a gorgeous man seated within an inch of his space, when he is brought swiftly to reality by a deep, warm voice.

“What are you reading?”

Steve jumps and looks up to meet the stranger’s eyes which are trained on his face, patient and open as he awaits a response. Curious.

“It’s _The Plague_. Camus.” Steve says and mentally curses himself because he sounds curt and monotonous. The man nods, eyes contemplative, and damn, Steve once again notices that they are a grayish green and dangerously beautiful.

He seems to gather that Steve does not want to talk, (which is definitely not what he is going for), and Steve quickly continues before they can return to the steady silence of strangers on a bus.

“I’m actually enjoying it, even though my professor assigns an obscene amount of reading every night.”

The man chuckles at Steve’s babbling and suddenly the chill of autumn air is suddenly feeling conspicuously warm on the back of Steve’s neck and ears.

“What class is it for?” he asks, eyes trained intently on Steve’s face as though he wants to take in every word Steve is willing to give and his entire attention is nowhere else. It’s a bit unnerving but refreshing from the one sided conversations with people on their phones or with their minds somewhere far away.

“It’s just a philosophy course, friend recommended it and it covers a GE so…” The man nods again.

They begin discussing Camus’ different works, the other professing the brilliance of _The Stranger_ while Steve teases him for liking the most famous one of course.

“But the thing is that no one has ever personified the idea of existentialism as well as Camus does with that book and that protagonist, and I doubt anyone ever will.”

Steve concedes that point begrudgingly, (although secretly it’s his favorite as well).

“I’m Bucky by the way,” the man says, holding out a hand.

Steve is surprised but returns Bucky’s broad smile. “Steve. Is Bucky your…?”

“James Buchanan Barnes because my parents couldn’t find a more obscure president. But my mom’s the only one who calls me James,” Bucky says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

“I like it. Bucky,” Steve tastes the name on his tongue, enjoying the syllables and the way it rolls, quietly, and mostly to himself, but when he looks back up Bucky’s smiling softly at him, head slightly tilted as though he can’t quite get a read on Steve.

Steve opens his mouth to continue their conversation when the bus pulls to a stop and looking at the sign, Steve knows this is where Bucky gets off everyday. Steve stands before Bucky has to ask him to without realizing how creepy he must seem.

Bucky looks surprised but a smile is teasing his lips as he stands with him. He nods his farewell and hops out of the bus after a thanks called to the driver and Steve is left sitting alone to ponder his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s Friday and today is looking like a good day. He got an A on his paper and he’s having dinner with Sam tonight. A very special Friday for him indeed. Special for no reason pertaining to a certain person he spoke to on the bus yesterday. 

Steve gets on the bus excitedly hoping to talk more with Bucky today and make him into a real person in his mind rather than the perfect smirking stranger his fantasies seem to include often. 

His hopes are dashed, however, when he gets on the bus and there are no available seats and there are already several people standing. Bucky is standing near the front and he gives him a wide, crooked smile that makes Steve’s face heat and he sheepishly returns it. 

He goes to stand next to Bucky even though he knows it’s too loud and crowded to have a real conversation today. They stand in silence, Bucky lost in his music and Steve in his thoughts, when the bus comes to the next stop and about three people exit, only for several more to take their places. 

The bus is squished and claustrophobic and Steve and Bucky shuffle further into the bus to make room for the newcomers. The bus begins moving again and they are standing incredibly close together, the heat Steve is feeling either coming from the cramped interior of the bus or the man before him, Steve is uncertain. 

He’s doing his best to keep still in the little room he has, maintaining as much distance as he can between them, although a couple times he almost knocks into Bucky with the jostling bumps of the bus. 

Steve keeps his eyes down because he is far too close to look up and into the gray-green depths. He might drown. Even with this knowledge, sometimes Steve forgets and glances up, and several times they make eye contact, only for Steve to look immediately away as his face flushes. 

After one such instance, the bus lurches to a stop and Steve loses his grasp on the rail above him, tumbling forward as his stomach flies to his throat. 

He barely manages to close his eyes before his body is stopped, two warm bars wrapped around his waist as his body is held to an uneven wall. He opens his eyes and immediately feels dizzy because his face is inches from Bucky, whose arms are supporting Steve’s weight and holding him close. 

Steve is lost in the pools of green and he’s certain that there is no air in his lungs, his entire body tuned only to the arms supporting him and those eyes, forgetting normal functions. The eyes don’t leave his own and the arms gently bring Steve back to his balance, though time is still muddled and moving sluggishly. 

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, and there’s no way Bucky can hear the word over the sounds of the bus but Bucky grins anyway. 

“Not a problem,” he says with a chuckle as Steve finally seems to grasp that they are standing  _ very  _ close together and the arms are  _ still _ around his waist, and as he glances down, Bucky seems to catch on as well and the arms immediately release him and Steve takes a miniscule step back, the best he can do with the hoard of people surrounding. 

Steve stares out the window for the rest of the ride, excluding the occasional fleeting glance to Bucky’s face who has resumed listening to music and gazing off, but sometimes his mouth seems to be fighting off a smirk and Steve is utterly and truly fucked. 

…

Steve is still lost in his mind as he goes over the bus ride over and over again. He can’t get the feeling of how vulnerable yet pleasing it was to be so close, to be held that way, to be able to look deeply into those green eyes and marvel at the man behind them. 

He needs to get his mind off of Bucky; he’s acting like a schoolboy with a crush and he needs to pull himself together. The guy is probably straight and even if he isn’t, he doesn’t know Steve and Steve doesn’t know him. 

But he’d really like to. 

But it doesn’t matter. Tonight, he’s going to get a relaxing dinner with his closest friend, grab a few drinks, and forget about life for a while. He’s celebrating. 

They go to a small diner near Sam’s apartment, nothing too fancy, Steve’s a college student after all, but they apparently have good drinks and tasty food, if limited in variety, but Steve’s excited. It’s been a while since he’s gone out. 

Steve walks a few blocks to Sam’s apartment rather than make him pick him up and together they walk to the diner down the street. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” Sam asks with that easy grin he always has and a clasp on the shoulder. 

Steve smiles and feels his posture loosen. “Not much, how are you? How’s Nat?” 

Sam smiles and replies with a soft smile that makes him look boyish and younger. Steve is glad Natasha makes him so happy. That they’re good for each other. “I, um,” he pauses and fumbles with his pocket for a moment before bringing out a small box, showing Steve the ring inside. “I had Tony not-so-discreetly find out the size and…” 

Steve grins and claps him on the back. “Congratulations man, you know how you’re gonna ask her yet?”

“Not yet, but I’ll let you know when I do,” he says with a sheepish chuckle. 

Steve smiles again at him as they walk to the restaurant and find a seat. “Alright, well tonight’s on me, we’re celebrating.”

Sam laughs and rolls his eyes. “I haven’t even asked her yet.”

“Sucks to suck,” Steve says as he opens his menu. He deliberates between pasta or a burger, (he didn’t eat lunch and he’s starving), when their waiter approaches the table. 

“Hi, welcome to Jim’s, can I get you something to drink?” 

Holy shit. Steve knows that voice. He timidly glances up from his menu, hiding his face as best he can because he knows he has to be beat red by now, and glances at Bucky who is looking down as he pulls out his notepad. 

“Our soup of the day is the tomato bisque, which I recommend the grilled cheese to go wi--” he cuts off as he finally looks up and makes eye contact with Steve, and once again, the latter is thrown into the cool green of those fucking eyes. 

Bucky blinks in surprise for a moment, still in the middle of an unfinished sentence, before the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked, half smile that makes Steve feel like he’s choking on his own tongue. 

Steve eventually recovers himself as Bucky continues his spiel and they place their drink orders. Sam and Steve discuss their days, though Steve stringently avoids the topic of a certain person on the bus today. Bucky returns with their beers, smiling covertly at Steve for a moment before he’s gone again. 

The rest of the dinner passes by rather uneventfully, Sam and Steve discussing some of his classes and when they should convince Tony to take them out for drinks, although several times Steve feels his gaze straying and watching Bucky as he works. 

After one such occasion, Bucky glances up at just the right time and catches Steve red handed, and his smirk widens into a full smile as Steve quickly looks back down at his plate, face heated. 

“Okay, what is with you tonight?” Sam asks, and Steve startles, jumping in his seat. 

“What do you mean?” he asks dumbly. 

“You and our waiter have been making eyes this entire evening. Why don’t you go after him?” Sam asks, eating another bite of burger. 

“So what, he’s attractive, I’m not his type,” Steve says, poignantly staring at his soup as he fiddles with his spoon. 

“How do you know that?” Sam asks, brows raised inquiringly. 

“We met on the bus,” Steve mumbles.

“Sorry, you met… on the bus? Ohh and how was it, did you two talk?”

“Yeah we talked about books and stuff. Camus. I was… distracted,” Steve says, still mostly to his bowl.

“Oh really?” Sam asks with his grin and Steve sinks lower in his seat. “So he likes reading, so do you, and he’s hot as sin, forgive me if I’m not seeing the problem…” 

Steve says nothing for sometime and Sam speaks again. 

“You’re a catch, Steve, you should know that. That guy would be lucky to know you.” Steve gives a half-hearted smile. 

Bucky saves Steve from having to response by coming to clear their plates. “Can I interest either of you in dessert? Coffee?” 

“Just the check when you get a chance,” Sam says, smiling politely and Steve keeps his gaze on the table in front of him after handing his plate to Bucky when he leans down to take it. 

He returns a moment later and Steve distractedly gets out his card. Bucky returns after a moment and hands Steve his receipt, their fingers brushing and Steve looks down sheepishly. When he looks up once more after Bucky has gone again, Sam is staring at him owlishly, an eyebrow raised with a look that very clearly says ‘spill’. 

Steve looks at the receipt and begins to write in a generous tip when he notices an arrow at the bottom pointing to the back on the customer copy. 

He flips the small paper over and there’s a phone number. Written below it, it says ‘in case you ever want to talk more about that book’. He glances up again and there is humor leaking into Sam’s eyes though he’s pursing his lips in a poor attempt to suppress a grin. 

He raises his brows again and Steve sighs and slumps in his seat. He groans and stares up at the ceiling. 

“Please tell me you’re aware he’s into you.” 

Steve runs a hand across his face. 

“And you like him.”

“I hardly know the guy, he could be an axe murderer. Just because he likes Camus and is attractive and funny and seems smart and polite and stuff doesn’t mean…”

Sam is giving him his best ‘you’re so full of shit’ face and Steve sighs again. “The guy gave you his number. Text him, ask him out, he did the hard part, all you gotta do is be your charming self.”

Steve sighs dramatically once more and hears a chuckle behind him only to see a particular waiter slipping into the kitchen. He whips back around to Sam, accusation clear on his face, but Sam just smiles innocently. 

“Just text the guy, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Steve enters the number into his phone in the hope that it will shut Sam up but who does he think he’s kidding?

“You gonna do it now?” Sam asks, sounding surprised. 

“No, I-- when do you think I should? Wait, what do I even say?” Steve asks, fiddling with his phone. 

“I dunno, you seem to be doing well enough so far. Just make conversation, ask him out, suck his dick, I don’t know,” Sam says laughing and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Thanks, you’re a real help,” Steve huffs, putting away his phone. 

“I know,” Sam says smugly. 


	3. Chapter 3

Steve spends the majority of his Saturday morning pacing back and forth across his bedroom, staring at the place his phone sits innocently on the desk. 

He’s been trying to come up with something to text, some good enough reason to text, and fuck, he knows he’s overthinking everything and that Sam was probably right, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s awkward as hell. 

Taking in a steeling breath, he mutters to himself, “Get a grip Rogers, ten seconds of courage,” and grabs the phone. 

_ Hey, it’s Steve _

What if he forgot his name? What if he knows another Steve? What if he forgets who Steve is and thinks he has a wrong number? 

_ From the bus _ , Steve adds after a moment. If that’s not enough information then he guesses it’s just not meant to be. 

It feels like an eternity but is probably closer to a few minutes, but Steve is making lunch in the kitchen when he hears the familiar ding of his phone. He nearly slips running back to the bedroom and hastily opens his messages. 

**Hi ‘Steve from the bus’** **  
** **How’s it going?**

Steve breathes deeply, thinking for a moment. 

_ I’m good, making some lunch at the moment. Hbu, still mentally married to Camus? _

Bucky responds within seconds this time, and Steve’s stomach flutters with excitement. 

**Don’t disrespect my husband XD** **  
** **What’s for lunch?**

_ Grilled cheese. What are you up to? _

**Ah, yum. I’m on my break right now and I work until 4 today. Any big Saturday plans?**

_ Nah, just a date with me and my easel haha _

**Ooh, so there is a big Saturday date for you already** **  
** **What are you painting?**

Steve pauses and tries not to read too much into Bucky’s first text but it’s very difficult. He’s never been good at flirting or guys or anything in that genre. He’s pretty sure this is flirting, and Sam seemed pretty certain, but still. 

_ Not sure yet, hoping inspiration strikes haha _

**Lol good luck. If you need a break tonight or some more inspiration let me know and maybe we can grab food or see a movie**

Steve barely manages to keep himself from dancing around the kitchen but even he can’t suppress the grin spreading across his face. 

_ Sounds good, how’s Italian? _

…

Steve has never been on a date this easy before. It’s almost like going out with a close friend because the conversation isn’t stilted or awkward and Bucky seems to have a superpower when it comes to making Steve laugh. 

He had been nervous, that part wasn’t new, and perhaps even more so than usual because Bucky is way out of his league and Steve hasn’t gone out with someone in ages. But, after changing his clothes three times and showering for longer than normal, Steve gives up. 

But being with Bucky is so so easy and by the time the waiter brings their pasta, Steve is relaxed and only a little tipsy on the champagne Bucky suggested. 

Bucky tells Steve about his foster parents and little sister Rebecca with a big mouth but a bigger heart and how his foster parents recently adopted a little girl who just turned six. As it turns out, Bucky really likes kids and Steve, even though he has no idea how to talk to them, finds this so incredibly attractive. 

Steve in turn tells Bucky about what it was like growing up sickly and small and how his mother did her best to keep him fed and healthy and how this was not an easy task, especially in a one income household. He doesn’t go into the gorey details of how the doctors had used an experimental treatment on him that, by some miracle, allowed him to finally keep food and fat on him and grow. They still don’t entirely know how it worked, only that Steve was the only candidate that the treatment had worked for without severe complications. 

Bucky watches him, riveted the entire, and Steve is almost unnerved by his ability to see so deeply, and how he seems to hang onto Steve’s every word. But it’s nice to know he cares and isn’t just waiting for his chance to talk.

But even though it is easy and Steve wouldn’t change a thing, he’s starting to second guess whether or not it’s a date. They talk easily for the entire dinner but other than the occasional small smile, it feels like any outing with a new friend. 

The check comes around and Steve takes out his wallet to split the check, something he would do with any friend on a normal occasion, but Bucky swipes the damn thing and shakes his head with a grin. 

“C’mon, let me split it with you,” Steve says, pulling out bills from his wallet. 

“Nah, no way,” Bucky says and puts his card into the folder. Steve huffs and rolls his eyes but that only makes Bucky’s smile widen. What does that mean? Date???

“Fine, but next one’s on me,” Steve says, replacing his wallet. 

Then he freezes. Bucky’s brows are raised in surprise for a moment but then his face melts into one of his easy smiles. 

Fuck. ‘Next time.’

“Deal,” Bucky says with a smirk as the waiter comes to take the check. 

Bucky walks him back to his apartment, even though Steve warns that it’s almost two miles away. 

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me, although it does mean extra time with you,” Bucky says with an exaggerated ‘yeesh’ face and Steve laughs and playfully smacks his arm. 

“Dick,” Steve mutters with an eye roll. 

“Part of the charm, Rogers,” Bucky says with that damned crooked smile of his and Steve couldn’t form words right now if he tried. 

…

“It wasn’t a date,” Steve repeats himself for the hundredth time Sunday night. 

Sam gives him a look that clearly says ‘bullshit’ and Steve groans. 

“Just because he paid doesn’t mean anything, I think he’s just a nice guy, is that so hard to believe? He didn’t try to kiss me or hold my hand or anything, not even to say goodnight. It was just two friends grabbing dinner.” Steve huffs heavily at the end of his rant and takes a large gulp of beer. 

“Two friends. Who have been flirting and smiling like a couple of teenagers on the bus. Who went to dinner where one paid. Who can’t keep their goddamned eyes off each other, Jeez Steve, tell me you aren’t this dense.”

Steve stares pointedly at the wall. 

“Have you guys talked at all since?” 

“He sent me a picture of  _ The Stranger _ , long story, and we talked about that for a bit…” 

Sam groans exaggeratedly. “So you’re telling me that this guy buys you dinner, flirts with you on the bus, is incredibly attractive, and texts you the very next day after an evening together and you still don’t think it was a date.”

Steve sighs again and drains the last sip of his beer. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Sam gives him his signature, ‘you’re a fucking idiot, Rogers’ look and Steve caves. 

“Jesus, whatever, maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not. I won’t shut down the idea or anything, I just don’t wanna get my hopes up.”

Sam gazes at him sympathetically. “Good. But if this guy hurts you--” he leaves the threat hanging heavily in the air and Steve grins. 

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam grabs him another beer and offers a small smile as he opens it for him by way of answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve is nervous and jittery when he rides the bus home Monday afternoon, barely managing to keep still as he tries to focus on the book in front of him. 

Any minute now, Bucky should be getting on the bus and it’s not too crowded today. Maybe he’ll sit next to Steve. Maybe they’ll talk and Bucky will ask to hang out again. Maybe…

But Bucky never shows and Steve tries not to let his stomach sink too low because it’s ridiculous and it’s only a short bus ride. Maybe Bucky has work at a different time on Mondays, or maybe not at all. 

He’ll probably be there tomorrow. 

…

Steve almost misses the bus the next day but he just makes it, the bus driver kindly waiting an extra few moments as Steve struggles to dig up his card while catching his breath. 

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly and heads to the back, where the air catches in his throat for an entirely different reason this time. 

Bucky smiles up at him and shifts a little, giving Steve the space to sit in the seat next to him. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks when he regains some of the air in his lungs, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out so accusatory but it’s too late now. 

Bucky just laughs. “I had work early this morning, I switched shifts so I could visit my family the past couple days.”

Steve nods. “Did you have fun? How are the sisters?” 

“They’re really good,” Bucky says and a fond smile sweeps across his face as he stares at nothing. “Amy’s gonna be a little firecracker; that kid sees right through your bullshit.”

Steve laughs with Bucky and fuck, were his eyes always that green? 

“She’d like you, Steve.” The words surprise him because Bucky knows he has little experience with kids and no siblings of his own, but it warms his heart all the same. Steve must look puzzled though because Bucky adds on. “You’re just so genuinely  _ nice _ ,” Bucky says, smiling shyly before avoiding Steve’s gaze. 

Steve can’t keep down his smile and when Bucky meets his eyes, he returns it. 

…

**What are you up to later tonight?** Bucky texts him later that afternoon, a couple hours after Steve gets home. 

_ Not sure, finished homework already so probably just chilling. What about you? Big Tuesday plans? Hahaha _

**Not yet, was wondering if you’d like to see a movie**

Steve grins stupidly at his phone before finally responding.  _ Sounds like fun, now I just gotta find someone to watch with _

The response doesn’t come for a few minutes and Steve begins to type that he was just kidding but Bucky beats him to it.  **Haha, asshole. Wanna see the new Annabelle movie? There’s one playing at 7:30**

_ Perfect, meet there? _

They work out the rest of the details and Steve sends a quick text to Sam saying that he’s going to see a movie with Bucky tonight and to wish him luck. 

Sam sends back a quick, “wait till after the opening credits to suck his dick”, to which Steve barely manages not to chuck his phone out the window. 

He showers and finds the casual pale-blue jumper that Natasha had bought him that she had insisted brings out his eyes. He throws on his tighter jeans but makes sure that he doesn’t look like he tried too hard. 

When they meet outside of Steve’s building, Bucky’s eyes sweep over him almost appreciatively and Steve feels warm in the face. Bucky’s wearing a casual hoodie that should not look that good on him and dark jeans that are tight around strong thighs. 

Jesus. 

“Ready?” Bucky asks with his boyish smile and Steve grins in return. 

Steve forces himself in between Bucky and the counter when they get there because this time it’s Steve’s turn to pay. 

“Hi, two tickets to see Annabelle at 7:30 please,” Steve says. 

“Alright, and will you be paying together or separately?” the woman with the bright smile and brighter red hair asks. 

“Together,” Steve answers as she finishes her last word, a bit over eagerly he will admit, and Bucky covers a snort with a cough behind him. Steve turns to glare at him with no heat while he waits for the receipt. 

“Thank you for paying,” Bucky murmurs low in Steve’s ear as they enter the theater and it sends a shiver down his spine. 

“Anytime,” Steve says with a small smile. 

They go to their seats and the armrest between them is already up, and neither of them make a move to pull it down. Soon, the trailers come on with the usual high scratching of a violin followed by something jumping out and scaring the shit out of Steve even though he  _ knows _ it’s coming. 

The first one follows the pattern to a T and Steve jumps when the scary demon lady leaps at the camera with a bloody mouth and black holes for eyes. 

Bucky glances at him when Steve sucks in a breath and laughs that Steve is already scared at the fucking trailers. And okay, Steve is kind of a scaredy cat when it comes to horror movies; in fact, he hates them. The always scare the shit out of him and he ends up with his eyes closed and hands over his ears, but he wanted to go out with Bucky again. 

“Scared already?” Bucky whispers when Steve sucks in a breath audibly again. 

“Forgot to mention, I don’t really do scary,” Steve says, curling into Bucky slightly without noticing and holding a hand over his eyes as he flinches as the woman screams again. Bucky laughs and puts a hand on Steve’s knee and it’s so casual and natural Steve almost wonders if Bucky is aware he’s doing it. 

Bucky says something that sounds like “You’re adorable,” but the trailers are too loud for Steve to be sure. 

The movie starts too soon and wastes no time in getting Steve to shit his pants. Figuratively. 

Why do the things always have to jump out at you, why can’t it just be suspenseful with a scary monster you never have to see?

Steve isn’t understanding the plot at all, hard to do when you don’t see half the movie, but he doesn’t close his eyes in time when the doll jumps one of the little girls and he almost lets out a yelp and squeezes Bucky’s arm, whose hand is still on Steve’s knee. 

Steve doesn’t let go of Bucky’s arm because it makes him feel a little safer, but then he doesn’t have hands to cover his eyes so he buries his face into Bucky’s arm after a particularly gruesome scene involving some broken fingers. 

Steve shivers but Bucky just laughs, removing his hand from Steve’s knee, (much to Steve’s dismay), but wraps it around Steve. Steve shifts closer and Bucky brings him in until Steve has his face almost buried in Bucky’s chest and he’s drowning in the warm fresh smell that makes up Bucky, and God, he never wants to leave. 

Bucky’s fingers occasionally trail up and down Steve’s spine lazily and Steve could almost fall asleep there, he is so safe and warm in Bucky’s arms in a way he hasn’t felt since his Ma was alive. 

Steve doesn’t look back at the screen for the remainder of the movie but too soon, Bucky gently squeezes Steve’s arm.

“Hey, it’s all done now,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear, his breath warm as it raises goosebumps along Steve’s arms. Steve peeks up blearily from Bucky’s chest and realizes that the credits are ending and the entire theater is empty. Maybe Bucky is one of those people that likes to see all the credits. 

Steve wearily blinks up at Bucky, still very much in his personal space, and the chest he’s still half laying on rumbles as Bucky laughs. “That bad, huh?”

Steve smiles shyly, cheeks warm. “Not the worst I’ve seen,” he replies casually but they both know he’s full of shit. Bucky laughs again, and Steve could walk on air. 

Bucky walks Steve back to his apartment, the fucking gentleman he is, and even worse, when Steve shivers slightly from the cool autumn air, Bucky removes the hoodie and hands it to Steve. 

“No, no, thank you, I’m good and you haven’t got on long sleeves,” he protests, trying to give it back but Bucky stubbornly keeps his hands in his pockets. 

“You’re either wearing it or neither of us are,” he says, and Steve grudgingly puts in on, and once again he is surrounded by Bucky’s scent, content to revel in it forever. The sweatshirt is soft and warm with Bucky’s heat, and best of all, it smells like him, and Steve is suddenly grateful for Bucky’s stubbornness. 

They walk with an easy quiet, occasionally bumping shoulders, but all too soon, they arrive at the apartment. Steve is waiting for something; a kiss, a sign, a fist bump, he has no idea but he wants  _ something _ , but Bucky surprises him as usual and pulls him into a half hug that could be friendly or could be…

Steve resists the urge to nuzzle Bucky’s neck and then he’s pulling back. “See ya next time?” Bucky asks when they pull away and Steve nods silently, staring at the concrete as he pokes it with his shoe. 

“I’ll, uh, wash this and give it back to you?” Steve asks, gaze briefly leaving his feet to look into Bucky’s eyes. 

“Nah, you don’t have to do that…”

“Yeah, but this way I know you’ll come back,” Steve says with a playful smirk that Bucky returns with a grin. 

“Sounds good.”

And if Steve sleeps wrapped up in Bucky’s scent and warmth, how would anyone know?


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky is on the bus Wednesday and thus starts the tradition of sitting next to each other almost every weekday, and even though it should be almost exactly the same as it was before, it feels like a different world to Steve. 

There is still the easy conversation and now, Bucky doesn’t often listen to music and Steve doesn’t pull out his book to entertain himself for the entire ride. Instead, they sit together and often talk about their days, the bus jostling them around and occasionally into each other. 

Friday, Bucky is recounting his work that morning and how a woman had called for a divorce just as Bucky was handing the couple the check for breakfast. 

They laugh together and, for what feels like the hundredth time, Steve loses focus on the conversation as he stares transfixed at the other’s face, pulled into a bright grin as his eyes close. He looks so carefree and easy, his laughter contagious. 

The way his eyes crinkle in the corners and nearly close as he throws his head back, mouth pulled into that genuine smile… And now Steve knows that he’s not simply an attractive man because of his appearance, which is also very handsome. 

But Bucky is attractive because of his goofy laugh and the way he tells stories with wildly flailing hands and a wide smile and the way he stares with rapt attention everytime Steve says something. The way he makes Steve laugh so easily and in turn finds so much enjoyment in Steve’s dumb jokes or teasing. 

Steve slowly comes back to himself, realizing Bucky has been saying something while he was too focused on his face. Bucky stops talking for a moment and Steve blinks to focus. 

“Sorry,” he says, his face likely beat red and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

Bucky shakes his head with a curious smile. “What were you thinking about?” he asks, his brows pulling up slightly, eyes open and intrigued. 

“Nothing, nothing, stupid,” Steve says, wishing the bus would hurry up and arrive at Bucky’s stop and end this horrible conversation, or better yet, that the floor would swallow him where he sat. 

“C’mon, I won’t make fun of you,” Bucky says, nudging his shoulder playfully with his own and Steve relents. 

“Just, I uh, have an assignment for my art class and I was thinking about asking you to pose for me,” Steve mumbles sheepishly, wishing Bucky wasn’t as perceptive as he is. 

“You do?” he asks, face surprised, but then it transforms into a smile.

“I mean, only if you’re comfortable and everything, I’ve just drawn Sam and Natasha so many times already and you’re so--” Steve cuts off that sentence before he can do any more damage with his babbling. 

Bucky raises an eyebrow as his mouth pulls into his familiar half-smirk, waiting for Steve to finish that sentence, but Steve just stares at his hands and toys with his fingers. “When’s it due?” Bucky asks. 

“Monday, so I have the weekend to work on it. Actually, don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have asked, it’s short notice, and we’re not-- we don’t--” 

Bucky laughs again. “Sounds like fun, and I’d love to see what you can do… do you wanna start tonight?” 

Steve hesitates a moment before nodding shyly, heart beating a mile a minute even though his brain hasn’t quite caught up. 

“Great, uh, just text me when and everything. Is there something I should wear, or…” Bucky asks and with disappointment, Steve realizes Bucky’s is the next stop. 

“Just your normal clothes,” Steve says with a soft smile. 

…

Bucky arrives later that afternoon in ‘the hoodie’ as Steve has taken to calling it, and some casual jeans. He looks casual and relaxed and gorgeous as ever, the look completed with a bright smile when Steve opens the door. 

“Hey,” he says, stepping aside so that Bucky can come in the apartment. 

“Mmm, you cooking something?” Bucky asks, nose tilted upward as he scents the air.

“Yeah, um, nothing fancy, just some soup and Ma’s garlic bread,” Steve says, leading him to the living room. 

“Smells awesome,” Bucky says, sitting on the couch where Steve directs him. 

“Do you want a beer or something to drink before we start? We don’t have to start right away, and you’re welcome to stay for dinner after…”

“A beer would be great, thank you,” Bucky says with his usual smile but it seems a little more reserved than usual, as though he’s nervous for something. 

“We don’t have to do this, it’s not too late to back out if you want,” Steve says as he hands Bucky the beer. “I can ask Sam, or someone in my class, or--” 

Bucky cuts him off, shaking his head vigorously. “No, I wanna do this, and I get dinner with you if I behave,” he says with a mischievous grin that is far more himself. 

Steve smiles shyly and sits behind the easel he already has set up. It’s just a sketch and won’t take more than an hour but Steve is already nervous. 

“Look out the window to my left, your right,” he says purposefully and Bucky raises his eyebrows but does what he says without question. Now that he doesn’t have Bucky’s eyes pulling his own he can finally concentrate once more. 

He begins to sketch the basic outline of Bucky’s body, mapping out the shapes and how they fit together with the sort of comfortability that only Bucky can pull off. He sketches the way his arm casually drapes across the back of the couch, fingers lax and hanging. 

Occasionally, he feels Bucky’s eyes on him, but everytime he catches him in the act, Bucky’s eyes dark with something that makes Steve’s stomach clench and his pants tight, something that resembles hunger, Bucky looks away quickly with a grin threatening the corners of his mouth. 

He continues for less than an hour and soon Bucky is seated across the aisle of the bus, looking out the window to Steve’s left with headphones in his ears and humor on his face. His gaze is clear and there is a glimmer of mischief and boyish charm in his eyes, in the soft smile about his lips, as though the Bucky in his drawing is resisting a smile as he thinks about something happy far away. 

It’s the way he’s seen Bucky look countless times before they became friends. 

“Done,” Steve murmurs as he finally puts the charcoal down and Bucky walks over, leaning over Steve’s shoulder, and he’s so close Steve can feel the heat radiating off of him. 

Bucky is looking at the drawing with wonder like a little boy seeing something for the very first time, and he is still far too close for Steve to think straight. “Wow,” he breathes, his breath tickling Steve’s neck and Steve wants nothing more than to turn and close the distance between them, to finally feel the lips he’s been staring at for ages against his own…

But it’s not what Bucky wants. It’s more than clear he only sees Steve as a friend and it would be wrong to betray that trust and make a move on him. But still, he looks up to watch Bucky’s face but then Bucky is turning to face him and their faces are far too close to be friendly and Steve needs to  _ back up Now.  _

But Steve is frozen, immobile, captured by Bucky’s eyes which briefly flicker to Steve’s mouth, the moment lasting an eternity. And just as Steve is certain that Bucky is going to close the gap, that all his fretting was stupid and oblivious, Bucky pulls away. 

He smiles sheepishly and Steve wants to whine with frustration, but instead he looks at the floor, refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes. If there was any chance, any slim, miniscule chance, that Bucky dated men and was attracted to Steve, now would have been the perfect moment, and his rejection only solidifies the knowledge that Steve will never be anything more than a friend. 

They’re a normal, platonic distance apart and Steve stares at his hands clasped in his lap. Bucky clears his throat. 

“You’re, uh, you’re really fuckin’ good,” he says, and when Steve glances up, Bucky isn’t looking at the drawing. Steve smiles half-heartedly, unable to help but feel the sting of rejection even though he knows Bucky can’t help being straight or seeing Steve as a good friend. 

“Thanks, you can keep it. When I get it back I mean,” Steve adds hastily. 

Bucky opens his mouth to say something and promptly snaps it closed, his face clearly torn, though Steve does not know what about. 

They stay there in uncomfortable silence for another moment when Steve breaks the spell with a falsely cheerful, “Dinner?”

Dinner is better and the tension from earlier has dissipated now that Steve is more than a few inches away from Bucky. They return to their easy conversations and bright smiles, and it’s nice, even though it will never be enough. 

Bucky helps him with the dishes and there is something so nice and  _ domestic _ and easy about Bucky washing them and handing them to Steve to dry and put away. God, why did he have to make it so easy?

Bucky stays for another beer which quickly becomes two, which doesn’t feel like much except a warm feeling and a looseness in his limbs. They both sit on the couch, leaning toward each other as they talk about nothing and everything at the same time. 

“And the lady goes, ‘you should know how I feel about the lobsters by now, Ron!’” Bucky exclaims and they both dissolve into a fit of laughter. 

The world is a little hazy and they are leaning awfully close to one another again, and Steve can feel Bucky’s breath on his cheek, the dark nutty smell of the beer washing over him. Bucky places a gentle hand on Steve’ forearm as the last of their laughter dies down and Steve is acutely aware of the warmth spreading through his body from just that point. 

“You…” Bucky trails off and Steve is once again captivated by the intensity of his gaze. Bucky leans in, and oh fuck, this is it this is--

Bucky freezes and Steve’s eyes flicker open as Bucky removes his hand from his forearm. 

“I--” Steve knows what he’s going to say. Bucky’s not gay. He knows this, but hearing it would kill him. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, standing and walking to the door. He doesn’t want to hear the words, the rejection was enough, and Steve really needs to learn to stop falling for straight guys and taking it personally. 

They pause at the door, each seeming at a loss for something to say, and as much as he hates to admit it, and loathes himself even more for even feeling it, Steve still hope Bucky will squeeze his arm or pull him into a hug or  _ something _ , even though Steve knows beyond knowledge that will never happen. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” Bucky says and hurries out of the apartment without looking back. 

“Night, Buck,” Steve says to the closed door. 


	6. Chapter 6

They don’t text for the entire weekend and Steve definitely does  _ not _ waste the time away glancing at his phone. He was looking at the sketch too often and eventually puts it face-down on the coffee table, unable to bear the feeling of what they’ve lost, or, really, something they never had. 

He spends the weekend in his apartment because moping and watching old movies seems like a much better option than going out or doing homework. 

He eats leftover soup and cereal because he doesn’t feel like going out into the world today and this is much easier. 

Steve doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he sees Bucky on the bus. Is he supposed to sit with Bucky like he usually does? Or are they supposed to ignore each other? Pretend nothing has changed? Pretend Steve isn’t falling way too hard for a guy that can never look at him the same way? 

Luckily for Steve, he doesn’t have to answer that question because Monday, Bucky isn’t on the bus. Much to his disappointment and relief. 

Tuesday is the same and Steve can’t help the hole he feels in his chest every time he thinks about texting Bucky something funny that happened to him or tell him that the sketch of him got an A. 

But everytime he gets his phone out with a smile, his stomach drops and he remembers once more. 

Wednesday, the bus is crowded and most of the seats are full, but Steve’s eyes automatically find Bucky seated at a window seat with an old woman beside him. Steve finds a seat a couple rows in front and across the aisle and plants himself there. 

He gets out his book in the hopes of a distraction. He reads for a few minutes when his phone vibrates against his thigh. Figuring it’s Sam wanting to meet up, Steve waits until after a couple more pages before checking his messages. 

**I like your shirt** , comes the text from Bucky, the first one in five days. Steve glances down at the fading navy t-shirt that has shrunk a bit in the wash and is tight across his chest, something he forgets every time he goes out wearing it. 

He turns back to shoot Bucky a raised eyebrow and his phone buzzes soon after. 

**Sorry, best excuse I could come up with to text you. How have you been?**

Steve thinks for a moment, wondering exactly how honest he should be, before deciding he doesn’t feel like lying. He’s already pretty much lost Bucky anyway, what’s the use of hiding anything now?

_ Been better. You? _

**Me too… Can I make it better by taking you to a movie tomorrow night? No night classes Thursday, right?**

Steve thinks for a moment before responding,  _ Depends on the movie.  _

He turns back and flashes Bucky a small smirk before facing the front once more. 

**Hmm, scary?** Steve can almost see Bucky’s grin and rolls his eyes. 

_ Try again.  _

**Comedy?**

_ Sure. _

**How about rom com?**

Steve hesitates, staring at his phone for a moment before responding.  _ Sure _ , he repeats eventually. 

Bucky’s response comes quickly.  **Great, I’ll look at the times. I’m taking you to dinner first and I don’t want any complaints.**

Steve chuckles to himself and sends back the rolling eye emoji. 

… 

Bucky gets Steve from his apartment a little after six. They go to the Italian place again and surprisingly, Steve falls back into the easy, comfortable company Bucky always provides. 

When Bucky fills out the check, he shoots Steve a smug look like the cat who got the cream and Steve rolls his eyes, but the effect is entirely ruined because he’s laughing and Bucky’s too damn adorable. 

“Why’d you change your shirt?” Bucky asks as they walk toward the theater. 

Steve chuckles and replies, “Because not everyone likes faded, ratty t-shirts as much as you do.”

“Everyone likes tight t-shirts on you,” Bucky mumbles and Steve’s ears turn red. 

…

The movie is cheesy but funny, and Steve finds himself enjoying it immensely, although that could be the company. 

Their arms share the armrest, not quite touching but Steve can feel the heat radiating between them, though his hand rests on his knee. He wants to close the gap between them, to do something, and he’s almost regretting saying no to the horror movie because at least it’s an excuse to cuddle. 

But Steve stays still and stiff, rigid in his seat because he still doesn’t know if this is a date, what Bucky wants from this, from  _ him… _

But they’re so close and not for the first time, Steve is struck by the casual intimacy in proximity, even though they haven’t touched in a non-platonic way. 

Steve hears Bucky shift in his seat and is suddenly unable to process what is going on on the screen. Bucky shifts again and suddenly his arm is pressed against Steve’s, their shoulders brushing, and Steve can’t breathe. His hand is cold and shaky resting on his own lap and he fights to keep it still. 

His eyes are still focused on the screen but he’s not seeing anything, his body completely attuned to Bucky’s movements. A touch on his pinkie sends electricity coursing through his system, but Bucky doesn’t move. Maybe he isn’t aware he’s touching Steve. Or that his hand is almost on Steve’s knee. 

But then the hand moves again, resting gently on his knee, warm and pleasant, and Steve feels like all of his nerves are drawn to that specific point. The hand moves once more, covering two fingers now before finally covering Steve’s entire hand. 

Steve glances at Bucky questioningly but Bucky’s eyes are glued to the screen. Steve watches his face and he turns his hand and laces their fingers together, watches as the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and Steve feels like he’s filled with helium. 

Bucky’s hand is warm and gentle in his own, and just the right size, anchoring Steve to the world and to him. He feels a tentative thumb stroking his knuckles and he has to fight the urge to grin like an idiot. 

The movie ends way too soon and they both let go as the lights come on. Steve smiles shyly and Bucky grins back and Steve suddenly feels like a teenager again. 

They take a cab home and on the ride back to Steve’s apartment, Bucky places his hand on Steve’s knee again, warm and wonderful. Steve hesitates a moment before tentatively holding Bucky’s. 

They ride for a few minutes with Bucky’s thumb tracing Steve’s knuckles and occasionally giving his hand a squeeze. Soon, they are in front of Steve’s apartment and Steve insists on paying the cab. 

“Let me walk you up?” Bucky asks hesitantly and Steve smiles and nods. 

They hesitate in Steve’s doorway and neither says a thing, and the silence is tense and heavy but Steve stands frozen in place. They’re both so close together, so so close, and is Bucky leaning in? Steve doesn’t think he was that close a moment ago…

Bucky’s eyes are so close now, and when did they get so green? He can see the little flecks of light in his iris he’s so close but then those glorious eyes slip closed and a hand has come to cup Steve’s cheek. 

His lips press so gently he hardly feels the kiss but for the tremors of electricity racing through his spine, but he’s so surprised he stands there frozen, his entire brain going haywire. 

Before he has the chance to process that this is Bucky and he’s actually  _ kissing _ Steve right now and Steve should definitely start kissing back, Bucky pulls away sharply. 

“Sorry, sorry--” But Steve cuts him off because he leans back in, placing his lips against Bucky’s and, after half a moment, Bucky is kissing him back, his lips hesitantly moving against Steve’s own. His hand comes to cup Steve’s face again, his movements soft and gentle as they slowly explore each other. 

When Steve’s hands come up to tangle in Bucky’s hair, the kiss deepens, Bucky’s tongue tracing Steve’s lower lip, causing him to gasp, and Bucky uses the opening to invade Steve’s mouth, the flavor heady, intoxicating. 

His lips are cool but his mouth is hot and sweet, something distinctly Bucky and Steve cannot get enough. As the kiss changes from a sweet exploration to something instinctual, born of lust, Bucky becomes the aggressor, crowding Steve’s body into the wall and suddenly he’s being pressed up against his own door, Bucky’s hips pressed firmly against his own. 

Steve pulls Bucky impossibly closer so that their bodies are aligned, and fuck, Steve has never been harder in his life but he angles his hips away in the hopes that Bucky won’t notice. Bucky moves his hands from Steve’s face and neck and firmly grasps his hips, keeping him still, and fuck if that isn’t hot. 

Bucky rolls his hips against Steve’s and he cries out at the feeling of Bucky’s erection grinding against his own. They need to slow down because at this pace, Steve is going to come in his pants in the goddamn hallway of his building. He pushes back at Bucky’s chest and Bucky pulls away instantly, both of them panting heavily. 

Bucky’s eyes are dark and unfocused as they search Steve’s. “I’m sorry I… took so long,” Bucky finally says, “I’ve never, uh, been with a guy. Before.”

Bucky looks flushed and his breathing is still heavy, but beneath that he looks nervous and almost… shy, the complete opposite of the Bucky Steve is used to. This Bucky is vulnerable, and the fact that he is baring himself to Steve makes his stomach tight. 

“That’s okay… I didn’t know you even, ya know,  _ liked _ me, until…” 

Bucky laughs incredulously. “Really?” 

Steve flushes and looks at the floor. Bucky’s hand cups Steve’s cheek gently, bringing his eyes back up to meet Bucky’s. 

“I thought I was beyond obvious… you make me feel like a fucking teenager again.”

Steve feels warm at the praise, and Bucky still has a hand on his cheek, gently stroking as he looks at Steve in a way he never has before. In a way that Steve can’t recall ever being looked at. It’s warm and soft, not fueled by arousal but rather a sort of tenderness Bucky often keeps hidden beneath humor and teasing but that peeps out when he talks about his family. 

“We can take this slow,” Steve finally says, “this is all new to you, and I don’t wanna…” 

Bucky shakes his head. “We go at whatever pace you need, I just had to get over myself,” he says with a chuckle, brushing his hair from his face. 

“Would you like to come in for a drink?” Steve asks and Bucky grins. 

They sit on the couch, drinking and talking, getting comfortable in each other’s presence. They hold hands or brush legs or touch in  _ some _ way because for the first time, Steve can. He has to control himself from stealing kisses every chance he gets. 

When Bucky finishes his beer, he lies down on the couch and rests his head in Steve’s lap. Steve wastes no time and cards his fingers through Bucky’s soft hair, using his blunt nails along Bucky’s scalp in a way that makes him sigh heavily and close his eyes. 

“When you say you’ve never been with a guy before…” Steve interrupts their momentary silence. 

“I mean I haven’t dated, kissed, or anything more than that… until you, I mean,” Bucky says with a soft laugh and nuzzles more into Steve’s lap. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, why haven’t you?” Steve asks after hesitating a moment but the alcohol has removed some of his inhibition. 

Bucky sighs and thinks for a moment, his eyes still closed as Steve continues petting him. “I just haven’t met the right one, ya know? I’ve been with a few girls, and I like both, but no guy ever really struck my eye that way I guess.” Bucky pauses after and then turns to look up at Steve. “Do you mind that I haven’t…” 

“No! No, definitely not, you like who you like, and I’m just lucky I kinda fall under that category…” he trails off but the end of his sentence ends up sounding more like a question. He resumes his stroking of Bucky’s hair to provide himself with a distraction. 

Bucky is still looking up at Steve’s face, and he shakes his head with a budding smile. “Not ‘kinda’. I haven’t felt this way about anyone, girl, boy, anyone. Maybe that’s why I took so long… didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Steve smiles and bends to gently kiss Bucky. “Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better now? :)


	7. Chapter 7

Steve wakes up in an unfamiliar setting, his cheek resting on something warm and solid, something that smells so good… something that moves. 

His eyes flash open as he realizes they have spent the night on Steve’s couch, Bucky’s arm curled around Steve’s body as he lays half on top of him. Bucky is still breathing deeply in sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily and Steve feels the constant heartbeat against his cheek. 

It’s soothing in a way, something constant and  _ there _ , and Steve nuzzles into Bucky’s chest, closing his eyes, and feels Bucky’s arms tighten around him. 

…

They’re pretty much dating now, spending several evenings each week together in some capacity or another. Steve has finals so for a bit, they don’t see each other very often or for very long, but the day that Steve completes his last final, he rides the bus home with a smile on his face. 

Bucky hops on and sees the empty seat next to Steve and takes it with a grin. 

“Hi,” he says as he easily laces their fingers together, and Steve is once again struck by how quickly they have fallen into a rhythm and how easy it is to be with Bucky. 

“Hey,” Steve says, putting his phone back into his pocket. “How are you?”

“Great, but I’m sure you’re better, how did your finals go?!” Bucky says, nudging Steve’s shoulder with his own playfully. 

“Really well, I feel pretty good about it. And I’m finally fuckin’ done,” he says with an exhausted laugh. 

Bucky leans in and pecks Steve on the lips briefly. “Does this mean you’re mine now?” he asks playfully, still so close. 

“I’m yours with and without finals,” Steve says rolling his eyes, “but I promised Sam we could have dinner tonight to celebrate.” 

Bucky pouts like a sad puppy and Steve laughs, giving his shoulder a shove. 

“I haven’t hung out with him in ages because my time has been… otherwise occupied,” Steve says, giving Bucky a playful look. “And besides, I was hoping you could maybe come for a late drink?”

Bucky pretends to mull it over but is clearly fighting a smile. “I’ll see if I can work you into my schedule.”

Steve laughs and rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “Always such a dick,” he murmurs fondly and Bucky’s thumb strokes his knuckles softly. 

…

Dinner with Sam is nice and casual; they order a pizza and watch  _ Friends _ , but spend most of the time talking over it. Bucky comes after Sam has left and they plant themselves on the couch with some beers. 

“How’s Sam doing?” Bucky asks casually, sinking further into the couch with an easy smile. 

“He’s good, watch another game with him and he might be the one who ends up dating you,” Steve says with a laugh. 

Bucky chuckles. “He’s a nice guy, but I’m kind of seeing someone already,” Bucky says, eyeing Steve over the rim of his glass. 

“Oh really?” Steve says, playing along. “Is he someone I should worry about?” 

Bucky places his empty drink on the table before shifting so that he’s leaning over Steve, who slowly sinks down slightly. “Yeah, I mean he’s tall, deadly handsome, sweet like you wouldn’t fucking believe…” 

They’re nearly nose to nose now, Steve leaning all the way back with Bucky on top of him. Bucky slides closer still, their hips nearly pressed against each other’s, and Steve can feel Bucky’s cock, hard and pressed against his leg. 

“And his smile,” Bucky says, kissing Steve gently on the lips and Steve arches up to grind against him. They haven’t gone further than some heavy making out followed by some vigorous masturbation in the shower alone… but maybe… 

Steve moans into Bucky’s mouth when his cock comes into contact with Bucky’s, straining against his jeans, and Steve wants nothing more than to set him free and swallow it down. 

Bucky emits a choked moan and moves down to suck on Steve’s neck, teeth playing with the tendons there and his tongue soothing, and Steve’s hand slides between them, palming Bucky’s cock through his pants. 

Bucky sucks sharply on Steve’s neck and the latter thrusts up reflexively. “Fuck,” Bucky murmurs against the skin of Steve’s neck. 

Fuck, Steve could do this all night but he needs  _ more _ , more than his own hand after Bucky leaves, more than the tentative Bucky that seems to be warring with himself for how hard he can push Steve. 

In a moment of hazy lust-driven courage, Steve flips them so that he is straddling Bucky. He presses his mouth hard to Bucky’s, tasting Bucky’s mouth roughly, and at first, Bucky is still tentative and slow, gaining confirmation every few moments with his eyes. 

When Steve murmurs “I want you,” against Bucky’s mouth, something cracks and Bucky is suddenly forceful and commanding, strong hands controlling Steve movements by holding his hips. 

Steve is lost in the movements of Bucky pulling Steve’s hips down to meet his rocks upward, the taste of him invading his senses as his tongue dances with his own, when Bucky pulls back suddenly. 

“Bed. Now.” And  _ shit,  _ his voice has gone so fucking deep and Steve scrambles up to the bedroom. 

Bucky pushes him on his back and begins to strip, removing his shirt to reveal and toned abdomen and gorgeous pecs. And just when Steve thought he couldn’t get more gorgeous. 

He wastes no time with his own pants, briefs proudly tented as his erection strains toward Steve. 

He takes his time undressing Steve and just like that, the tense, desperate feeling is gone and replaced with something far more intimate, something personal and special. Bucky gently removes his t-shirt with Steve’s help, placing gentle kisses on the newly exposed flesh.

He’s tender and slow, exploring every inch with lips and tongue, laving across Steve’s nipples in a way that makes him arch off the bed with a whine that in any other context would be embarrassing. 

“Shhh,” Bucky whispers just below Steve’s navel, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide when he glances up, and his hands travel lower as they begin to undo Steve’s belt. Steve is resting on his elbows, staring in fascination as Bucky helps lift his hips to bring his pants and underwear off in one motion. 

Steve’s cock stands proudly between his legs, dark and begging for Bucky’s attention. Bucky quickly removes his own briefs so that they are naked and on equal ground, although Steve has never felt more vulnerable in his entire life, even though he has more experience than Bucky with guys. 

Bucky is looking at Steve’ erection with wonder, his hands resting on his hips as though hesitant to move closer. 

“Can I…?” he asks hesitantly, still staring at Steve’s cock. 

“Whatever you want, we don’t have to--” but Steve is cut off as his mind short circuits as Bucky takes him into his mouth like a pro, like he has never wanted anything more than to taste Steve. 

Steve hisses through his teeth as his head falls back, his hand curling into fists by his sides to resist the urge to grip at Bucky’s hair. He doesn’t stay there for long because watching Bucky around his cock has got to be the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. His eyes are hooded and dark, and every so often they look up at Steve and roll back as he takes him all the way in. 

It’s clear Bucky has never done this before but god, the man must be naturally brilliant at everything, because he quickly picks up on what Steve likes, and lord, does the man even have a gag reflex?

Bucky speeds up, using his hand to work Steve’s base alongside his mouth, tonguing the head before pulling off and jerking him with a small twist of his wrist that has Steve arching off the bed. He slides a hand to one of Steve’s clenched fists, gently pulling it and guiding his hand to wrap in his hair to aid his movements. 

Steve maintains enough control not to pull Bucky deeper every time, a task not easily accomplished, but Bucky seems to love it, so vulnerable to Steve’s movements and yet so entirely in control at the same time. Steve has never been more turned on his life. 

A finger presses against Steve’s perineum and he shoots forward with a cry, stars bursting before his eyes. The finger trails back further still and Bucky pulls off of Steve slightly so that he is only sucking at the head as his finger begins to feel Steve’s entrance. 

He pulls off with a final suck and rubs at Steve’s thigh tenderly. 

“Do you usually…?” he trails off, looking shyly at Steve. 

Steve pulls Bucky up so they can have this important conversation without Steve’s throbbing cock inches away from Bucky’s face, his swollen lips and wet mouth an appealing distraction. 

Bucky lies beside him, Steve now noticing his angry flushed cock pointing at him, as though  _ he _ was the one getting expertly sucked off. 

“Each are good for different reasons, I like both. But this is your first time and I don’t wanna do anything you aren’t ready for,” Steve says, brushing a thumb across Bucky’s cheek, the stubble just beginning and tickling his hand. 

Bucky leans in to Steve’s touch and reaches his own hand to trace up and down Steve’s side. “I want to fuck you… have for awhile,” Bucky says shyly but then the familiar crooked smile is peeking out. 

“Good,” Steve says, scooting closer and bringing his hand to close around Bucky’s cock, stroking it back to full hardness within seconds. Bucky’s eyes are hooded and he’s looking at Steve with something caught between wonder and arousal, his hips stuttering as Steve quickens his pace. “Because I want you inside me,” he murmurs breathily into Bucky’s ear and receives a choked moan in response. 

Bucky flips them so that he is on top in a feat of strength, and damn, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. He grinds his erection into Steve’s hip, leaving a trail of precome there and Steve arches back, bringing their hips together. 

“Lube?” Bucky asks panting, slowing his movements a touch. 

“Top drawer,” Steve replies, just as breathless and eager. 

Bucky retrieves the small tube and opens it with a click. He looks at Steve nervously and he grasps Bucky’s wrist gently to steady him. 

“It’s okay, I’m here with you,” Steve murmurs encouragingly and Bucky smiles gratefully. “Now listen, if this gets to be too much, or you change your mind, you just say, okay?” He looks intently at Bucky, making sure that he knows his words are sincere and Bucky gives a smile before nodding. 

He shifts so that Bucky is between his legs, spreading himself open in a way that has never felt more vulnerable than this moment, exposing himself fully. “Pour some on your fingers,” Steve whispers and Bucky hastens to do it. 

He holds it in his hand, warming it even though Steve hasn’t asked him to, and his heart tightens at the gesture. He trails his fingers across Bucky’s shoulder, mesmerized as the taut muscles shift beneath his hand. 

“Now you gotta open me up,” Steve says quietly, searching Bucky’s face in case he wants to back out. But Bucky nods and shifts slightly, opening Steve’s legs further. Steve guides his hand to his entrance and Bucky slowly probes one finger, gently exploring until the very tip of his index finger breeches him. 

Steve lets out a small puff of air and forces himself to relax as Bucky’s finger pushes slowly in until it is in all the way. Bucky is looking at him with trepidation, as though waiting for Steve to show signs of his mind changing or pain or something of the like. 

Steve lets out a little hum of content and relaxes further into the bed. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks hesitantly, not moving his finger still inside. 

Steve nods with a soft smile and begins to move his hips, shifting the finger inside of him. Bucky is watching him with wonder as Steve pleasures himself using Bucky’s own finger. He begins to help, moving his finger with Steve’s motions, exploring within him. 

“More,” Steve murmurs, eyes closed, and he feels Bucky slowly push in another finger alongside the first. He moves them within Steve, growing more confident with Steve’s clear pleasure. He wiggles them within, searching deeper, and  _ there _ , Steve cries out as Bucky brushes the sensitive bundle of nerves and his hips thrust forward involuntarily. 

Bucky moans in response, as though getting off on how much Steve is enjoying  _ finally _ having Bucky inside him, and he focuses his fingers entirely on that one place, making Steve jerk and gasp, thrashing on the bed. 

Bucky’s cock is hard and throbbing against his hip, and fuck, Steve needs that in him. His eyes flicker open to look again at Bucky’s face. “I want you inside me,” he whispers breathily, still panting as Bucky slows his movements to hear him. 

Steve wraps a hand around his cock and guides him to his entrance, helping line him up before urging him in. 

Bucky so so slowly slides in, lubed and ready, and even though there’s the hint of burn that Steve has grown to love, the burn that comes from not having been with anyone in almost a year. 

He pushes the tip in and waits just a moment, his whole body taut and tense, clearly requiring a ton of self control not to just thrust in and  _ take _ . It is something tender and sweet and Steve’s heart clenches tightly. He reaches up and strokes Bucky’s cheek, smoothing the wrinkle between his brows. 

“Okay?” Steve asks tenderly, searching Bucky’s face when he still hasn’t moved. 

Bucky lets out a shaky laugh and Steve feels it inside him and he clenches instinctively. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“If you need to stop,” Steve says, beginning to shift back but Bucky holds on, gripping Steve’s hips and resting his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. He pushes in just a touch more and Steve sucks in a sharp breath, spreading his legs and arching slightly. 

He feels a kiss on his neck, a nose feeling along his jaw as Bucky pushes in the rest of the way. Bucky lets out a choked moan against Steve’s skin and Steve tightens his muscles around him, enjoying the way the moan lets off on a gasp at the action. 

Bucky slowly edges his hips out to the tip before sheathing himself entirely once more, his pace so so slow and careful, watching Steve for any signs of discomfort. But Steve is loving this. He’s never enjoyed bottoming this much in his life, often finding it too vulnerable and intimate for the kinds of men he was with. 

But with Bucky, he enjoys the intimacy that comes from not knowing where Bucky ends and he begins. He loves the feeling of Bucky so deep inside him he’s basically a part of him. And he loves that this is Bucky’s first time and that he is revealing this part of himself to Steve, that their connection is strong enough that Bucky is comfortable enough to bring it to the next level. 

He’s moving incredibly slowly but deeply and Steve can’t help but let out a small moan in surprise every time he finds  _ that spot _ inside him, bringing him closer and closer to his peak. Bucky watches with wonder, pleasure written clearly on his face, as though he simply can’t believe he’s here with Steve. Steve understands the sentiment and is still very much in a state of shock but it is still endearing and somehow adorable, even with Bucky several inches inside him.

Steve clenches hard around him as Bucky hits his prostate again, his own cock spurting precome, flushed and red as it throbs against his stomach, untouched, but Steve knows that he will come soon whether Bucky touches him or not. But it’s alright because Bucky is panting hard against Steve’s neck, occasionally licking and kissing at the flesh there, and his pace quickens as though outside his control. 

Steve arches again and, “Fuck, Bucky… so close,” and Bucky slams his hips in harder, driving himself deeper than Steve ever thought possible. Steve pulls at Bucky’s hair, wanting to see his face as he comes apart, and Bucky pulls back just as the rush of pleasure hits its peak at full force and Steve is practically writhing beneath him, his untouched cock spurting liquid between them. 

He’s just coming down when Bucky groans out his name and Steve feels the hot splash of liquid inside him, Bucky’s hips shuttering as he spills himself before settling on top of Steve, seemingly uncaring of the mess between them. 

They lie silently as they both catch their breaths and the way Bucky is sprawled on top of Steve like he is something precious and mustn’t be allowed to leave makes Steve feel warm in the chest. He runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, tangled and sweaty from their encounter, but still soft and beautiful all the same. 

Bucky breaks the silence with a whispered, “I didn’t know it could feel like that,” and it’s almost like he’s talking more to himself than to Steve, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. He almost looks asleep. Then he lifts his head and stares at Steve in wonder. “That was--” he lets out a little huff of air and Steve smiles shyly. 

“It was,” Steve says smiling and he pulls him up for a slow kiss, nothing like the deep, erotic ones from before; this one is slow and soft like a prayer. 

Bucky finally pulls his softened cock the rest of the way out of Steve and they both make a face at the sensation. “Shower?” Bucky asks and Steve grins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay full disclosure I hate writing and editing smut, reading it not so much haha, but anyway there are parts that are not as thoroughly edited as I would like so if you catch anything pls pls pls let me know. Hope you enjoyed it, one chapter to go!


	8. Chapter 8

They’re staying at each other’s apartments a lot now and the nights spent without Bucky are cold and lonely for Steve. Even when they spend the day together, his bed without Bucky is empty and cold and Steve often wakes up curled around his pillow. 

Luckily, the feeling seems to be mutual because neither of them bring up the fact that it is rare that they go to bed alone anymore. It’s on their six month anniversary that Bucky asks Steve to move in with him, (to which he happily agrees and is celebrated with ravenous sex). 

Living together is surprisingly easy, and aren’t there supposed to be problems from spending that much time together and being in each other’s space? But Bucky works and Steve has just found a job in animation and they’re both kept busy enough that it isn’t too much but not so much that they never see each other. 

It’s wonderful and perfect and fuck, when did Steve get this lucky?

…

Steve wakes up earlier than usual this Sunday morning, curled against Bucky’s side, his bare chest rising and falling slowly in sleep. Steve watches the way his lashes flutter against his cheek for a long moment before finally getting up. 

He has time to kill and because the mood strikes him, he decides to make blueberry pancakes and bacon. He puts some headphones in to listen to music while he cooks and enjoys dancing around the kitchen in the cool silence of the solitary morning. 

The last of the bacon is sizzling when Bucky finally emerges, rubbing at one eye with the back of his hand like a small child, and that is a sight Steve while never grow tired of. He sees Steve and his face breaks into a breathtaking smile. 

“Take a seat, I’m almost done,” Steve says, flipping his last round of pancakes. He turns back to his cooking but pauses as warm arms wrap around his waist and Bucky’s chin rests on his shoulder. He bites his lip on a smile as the arms tighten for a moment and Bucky turns to kiss his cheek. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bucky murmurs before releasing Steve and Steve is so ready to swoon that he almost doesn’t notice Bucky swipe a piece of bacon. 

Steve shakes his head fondly. “Asshole.”

Bucky places the other half of his bacon on Steve’s lips and he happily accepts the treat. “You love me for it,” Bucky says teasingly, but then the weight of what he’s just says seems to dawn on him and his mouth clamps shut, his eyes alarmed before his gaze drops to the floor. Even though they live together and have been together for some time now, the ‘three words’ still haven’t been shared, the weight of them too daunting for Steve to ever admit first. “I, um-” Bucky begins. 

“I do,” Steve says effectively cutting him off. 

“What?” Bucky whispers, eyes flashing back up to search Steve’s face. 

Steve clears his throat but he’s already admitted it and Bucky isn’t yet running for the hills so he proceeds on. “I love you.” 

Bucky is quiet a moment and the cold grip of doubt squeezes Steve’s chest because  _ what if he’s fucked this up _ , but then Bucky is closing the distance between them and kissing him passionately. His hands come up to cup Steve’s face, pulling him infinitely closer until Steve is pressed up against the counter, their breakfast momentarily forgotten. 

Bucky breaks apart suddenly, grin on his face. “I love you too.”

… 

On Bucky’s birthday, they throw a party and Bucky makes the mistake of allowing Tony to plan the whole thing and hold it at his ostentatiously large apartment, if it can even be called that. But the food is fancy and the drinks are free so Steve can’t complain, especially when he gets to watch a slightly tipsy Bucky dancing to the garish music comprised of mostly bass with Nat.

They’ve become good friends since Steve and Bucky started dating, and Steve watches with a fond smile as Bucky exaggeratedly spins Natasha at the end of the song. Sam comes up to stand and watch beside him, handing Steve a refill of his drink. 

“Thanks,” he says, unable to tear his eyes from Bucky’s crude display on the dance floor as he moves with the music. He keeps glancing at Steve as though the make sure he’s still watching, and Steve would like to see anyone try to make him  _ stop _ . 

“What a pair of dorks we’re dating,” Sam says fondly as Bucky leans Nat back before whipping her upright again. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling into his beer as Bucky winks at him. Steve looks at his watch and sees it’s nearing one in the morning and he still has a few gifts of his own he’d like to give the birthday boy. 

When the song ends, he goes to the dancefloor to bring Bucky home but he’s swept quickly into strong arms and held to a warm body. 

“Hey gorgeous,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear and he gasps when he feels Bucky’s erection pushing into him from behind. Steve turns in Bucky’s arms and loops his own behind Bucky’s neck. 

“Hi sweetheart, you about ready to head home?” Steve asks, making a point of grinding his hips into Bucky’s so that his intentions are clear. 

“Definitely, but first I want this dance,” Bucky says, adjusting his hands as the song turns slower and placing them on Steve’s waist. 

“Aw, Buck, you know I can’t dance for shit,” Steve says in mild protest but he knows that he’ll give in as soon as Bucky asks. 

“Yes, and I know it’s adorable to watch. Besides, it’s my birthday,” he says, raising his eyebrows to give his best puppy dog eyes. 

“You know technically it’s past midnight,” Steve says with a wry grin on his face and Bucky rolls his eyes. 

“For me?” he asks and Steve lets out an exaggerated sigh but he’s grinning so the effect is ruined. They dance for long minutes and Steve rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder and the room is gone, the other party guests are gone, and half an hour later it’s just Steve and Bucky dancing in slow circles in their living room to a quiet song playing on their radio. 

The song draws to a close and Steve looks up to pull Bucky into a sweet kiss. The kiss deepens as Steve tugs on Bucky’s hair, drawing him closer as they meld into each other. 

Steve leads Bucky upstairs, prepared to give him the birthday blowjob of his life, and shoves him down on the bed, held up on his elbows as he watches for Steve’s next move. It’s addicting, this power he has, how easily Bucky had gone down and the way he’s staring enthralled at Steve. 

He slowly unbuttons his shirt, never taking his eyes off of Bucky’s face, and drops it on the floor next to him. He shimmies out of his pants and somehow manages not to stumble under Bucky’s heated gaze, his pants already tenting profusely. It builds Steve’s confidence, the effect he has on this man after doing so little. 

He helps Bucky out of his shirt and Bucky eagerly aids his movements, enthusiastically stripping with Steve’s help. His cock stands proudly erect, already flushed and leaking, and fuck, Steve is ready for a taste. 

Sucking cock has always been one of his secret passions, something that he enjoys more than he thinks he should, but he’s never had a partner complain about his enthusiasm. Bucky is no different, and Steve will never get enough of the way Bucky gazes at him with marveling wonder through hooded eyes, the way his head falls back as he comes, trying to keep watching Steve for as long as he can before orgasm overtakes his senses. 

Steve licks a long stripe from base to tip, enjoying the bitter salty taste of his profusely leaking cock. He wraps a hand around the base and Bucky’s hips give a helpless thrust, seaking more friction. Steve teases a while longer, licking and suckling on the swollen head, relishing the sounds and faces Bucky makes when he hits a sensitive spot. 

A hand comes to rest on the back of Steve’s head and he takes this as the sign that Bucky is getting close and god, he wants to taste that sweet cum. Steve begins using all of the tricks he knows, taking him as deeply as he can several times before pulling back and flicking his tongue around the sensitive head in the way he knows Bucky likes. 

Bucky’s hips are giving small involuntary thrusts and Steve knows that it is taking all his willpower not to grab his head and fuck into his mouth. Steve wants to eradicate what remains of that willpower and takes him deeply once more, moving at a quick pace that is sure to make Bucky come. 

He’s hard and leaking against the mattress and it takes a lot of effort not to simply rut against the mattress as he sucks Bucky’s cock but this is about Bucky. He redoubles his efforts and Bucky cries out loudly. He’s close. 

“Steve,” Bucky says in warning but Steve’s swallowed him many times and Bucky should know by now that he has no issue with Bucky coming in his mouth. “Steve, stop,” Bucky says firmly and the tone clenches at Steve’s chest and makes an anvil drop in his stomach because fuck, somehow he’s fucked up, and he really doesn’t want to fuck up Bucky’s birthday. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says instinctively without thought, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and adjusting himself on the bed. He glances down at Bucky’s dick, angry and red, ready to erupt. 

“What? No, don’t be sorry,” Bucky says, but Steve can’t meet his eyes. 

“No, it’s okay, just tell me so I can fix it,” Steve says, wringing his hands anxiously. 

“Stevie, no, that was amazing,  _ you’re _ amazing. I just don’t wanna come yet, I wanna do something that gets us both off,” he says, and God, what did Steve ever do to deserve Bucky? Bucky lifts Steve’s chin and pulls him into a soft kiss, even though he still looks hard and aching. 

“I just wanted to get you off ‘cause it’s your birthday…”

Bucky smirks. “You know, it’s technically past midnight,” he says and Steve smacks his shoulder with a laugh. “And what if I asked for something better,” Bucky says coyly but Steve knows him well enough to see that he’s hesitant and shy about something. 

Steve raises his eyebrows, bidding him continue. Bucky bites his lower lip and then moves closer, stroking Steve back to full hardness while looking deeply into his eyes. 

He opens his mouth and closes it before opening it once more. “I… I want you to fuck me.”

Steve stares with his mouth gaping, Bucky’s hand still wrapped around his erection, paused in its movements. His brain must be short circuiting because there is no way that those words escaped Bucky’s mouth because…

They’ve never done it before, Bucky’s never shown any interest in anything but fucking Steve into the mattress, something that Steve is more than happy to comply with. But… 

“I mean only if you want… we don’t, you don’t--” but Steve’s brain catches up in time and he silences Bucky with a firm kiss, dominating and fierce, exploring his mouth with his own tongue. 

“I want to,” Steve whispers and Bucky is already panting at Steve’s display of dominance, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen, Bucky looking at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted, pupils blown wide. With that, Steve resumes their kiss and pins Bucky to the bed, allowing himself to not restrain all of his strength any more. Bucky is strong, almost as strong as Steve, and it feels so good to finally let go. 

Steve plants himself between Bucky’s slightly parted legs and Steve widens the gap between them, pushing Bucky’s knee up until he is open and exposed, flushed and breathing heavily beneath him. 

Steve kisses the hollow behind his knee, licking up his thigh and nipping at the sensitive flesh there. Bucky whimpers and squirms on the bed, hair splayed out on the pillow beautifully. 

“Shh,” Steve whispers, kissing the bite mark he’s left before moving up Bucky’s body to bring their lips together once more. He retrieves the lube from the nightstand and clicks it open. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Steve asks, pulling back from his mouth before he opens the lube. 

Bucky nods vigorously, widening his legs as far as they will go. Steve carefully pours some out onto his fingers, teasing gently at Bucky’s entrance. His eyes are closed and his breathing is heavy and Steve hesitates, but then Bucky’s eyes are open and watching him and his hand is guiding Steve’s fingers to their mark. 

He carefully presses the first digit past the tight ring of muscle and Bucky lets out a deep sigh as if to say  _ finally _ . Steve watches Bucky’s face carefully as he pushes in deeper, looking for any signs of pain as his index finger goes the rest of the way in. Bucky moans softly, hips canting slightly when Steve keeps his finger still to allow him to adjust. But Bucky is as impatient as ever and so Steve obliges, moving his finger inside him and watching the faces of surprise Bucky makes at the sensation, before he is loose enough to add another finger. 

His middle finger joins the first and Bucky throws his head back with a groan, his hips circling as he clenches down hard on the two digits. Steve searches for the spot that will make this so much better for Bucky, reaching his fingers until  _ there _ , Bucky’s hips jerk hard and his cock spurts more clear fluid. Steve teases that spot, stroking it over and over until Bucky is whining and writhing desperately. 

“ _ Steve _ ,” Bucky groans as his fingers hit the spot again and pride swells in Steve’s chest that  _ he _ is showing Bucky these sensations, these feelings no one has ever come close to before. 

Steve adds another finger and this only serves to build Bucky’s impatience because after another moment he’s pushing at Steve’s hand. “Fuck me.”

Those words go straight to Steve’s cock and he gently pulls his fingers out, retrieving the lube to slick himself up. It’s fast and hasty but he does give himself an extra stroke and more lube than he would think necessary because this is Bucky’s first time and he wants it to be as near perfect as he can get it. 

“Do you want to be on all fours? Makes the first time easier,” Steve says, stroking a strand of hair from Bucky’s eyes. 

He shakes his head. “I want to see you,” he says so quietly and it makes Steve’s heart throb hard in his chest. 

He carefully lines himself up and at Bucky’s nod, he slowly sinks in, Bucky’s eyes wide and his head thrown back at the stretch. “Fuck, Bucky,” Steve groans out, fighting to keep his hips still once he is buried completely within Bucky. 

Bucky is so hot and tight around his and his hands come up, one resting on Steve’s shoulder while the other winds into his hair, his legs still wrapped around Steve’s hips. He lets out a shaky breath and buries his face into Bucky’s neck as he fights to remain still, mouthing at the place where neck meets shoulder. 

Bucky grips tightly to his shoulder and Steve hopes he has bruises to show for it tomorrow and Bucky hisses out a breath. “You okay?” Steve asks, worried that this is to much, that he went too fast…

“So good,” Bucky manages to get out, his words breathy and quiet. “Steve,  _ move _ ,” he commands and Steve slowly pulls out until only the tip remains inside before thrusting back in slowly. Bucky throws his head back and his fingers clench tightly to Steve’s shoulder. 

They move slowly, rhythmically, each building off of the other’s motions as their pace begins to quicken. “Fuck yes, Stevie,” Bucky cries out, interrupted by a moan when Steve brushes against his prostate. 

He aims for that angle again and sets a brutal pace when he finds it, hitting the spot over and over again. Bucky is so tight around him and the wet heat draws him in deeper than he thought possible, ramming in harder and harder as Bucky’s cries grow more desperate. He’s never been this vocal before and something about the way he’s let go of his reservations and guard makes Steve all the more proud as he feasts hungrily upon Bucky’s lips. 

“Mm, Buck, ‘m close,” he pants out, sweat dripping into his eyes but he’d be damned if he slowed down now. 

“Fuck, me too,” Bucky says hoarsely, and Steve focuses all of his attention on hitting his prostate every time because this is Bucky’s first time bottoming and damn it it’s gonna be perfect. 

He wraps a hand around Bucky’s profusely leaking cock and just like that he’s gone, spurting over his own stomach and Steve’s hand, and the clenching of his ass around Steve is what sets him off, crying out against Bucky’s neck as he empties himself inside him. 

They lie there for a long moment, little tremors from the aftershocks shaking through them as Steve contentedly mouths at Bucky’s neck as Bucky runs his fingers up and down Steve’s spine. Bucky sighs deeply. “I love you,” he murmurs against the top of Steve’s head. 

Steve smiles sleepily into Bucky’s chest and mumbles back, “I love you too.”

They lie for a moment longer but then the cum is starting to dry between them. “C’mon,” Bucky murmurs, “let’s get cleaned up.”

Steve makes a noise of protest but then Bucky is sitting up and he has no choice but to comply, allowing Bucky to drag him to the shower. He allows the water to heat and then pulls Steve in to join him. Steve is pliant and loose, exhausted from their exertions and oh so content. 

Bucky washes him gently, using his fingers to massage at Steve’s scalp and Steve hums a sigh and rests his head on Bucky’s slick shoulder. They wash in a peaceful quiet and Bucky helps Steve get into soft pj bottoms before they both climb into bed. Steve languidly sprawls out half on top of Bucky’s chest and he lets out a quiet chuckle, hand stroking the small of Steve’s back as they both begin to drift off. 

Steve is beat, more asleep than awake at this point, when he hears a whispered, “Steve?”

“Mm?” he mumbles against Bucky’s chest. 

“I want a forever with you,” Bucky whispers quietly into the darkness and Steve wonders idly if this is a dream. 

“‘M with ya ‘till the end of the line, Buck,” Steve mumbles before sleep takes him completely. 

…

Steve wakes up in their bed alone, something that doesn’t happen often, and the bed has never felt larger and colder in his life. He rolls to Bucky’s side of the bed and hugs his pillow tightly for a moment, even though it’s cold, which means Bucky has been up for a while. 

He glances at the clock and it’s only half past seven, so something is off. He wanders out into the kitchen but Bucky isn’t there, and now the weight in his stomach is unbearably heavy, because what could’ve happened last night that made Bucky leave? Would he pack his things and go without so much as a note? 

He goes back into their bedroom but all of Bucky’s stuff is still there, the whole apartment untouched. He thinks back to last night and the amazing love making they had done, and the dream Steve had? 

Just then, the front door opens and in walks Bucky with two coffees and a grin. “Goodmorning, love,” he says, kissing Steve on the cheek before handing him his coffee. “Sleep well?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, deciding not to mention the irrational scare he’d had that Bucky had just up and left him without saying anything. 

Bucky fiddles with something in the kitchen and so Steve decides to take a seat on the couch, ready for a lazy Sunday morning, and he’s once again wondering if Bucky meant what he said last night, or if it even happened, when he finds the ring sitting on the coffee table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's all folks! Let me know what y'all thought and I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for reading!


End file.
